


Bedside

by navree



Category: Twin Peaks
Genre: ??????, Gen, and there is a bit where albert talks about blood so, idk if this would be triggering but it does talk about murder and such, not too proud of this one I'm gonna be quite honest, proceed at your own risk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-22 21:14:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11975142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/navree/pseuds/navree
Summary: She said it with such stunning and devastating simplicity, as if there was no other place on Earth she would rather be. For some reason, that scared him, on behalf of them both.While Dale Cooper convalesces in the hospital, two of the people closest to him talk.





	Bedside

**Author's Note:**

> I watched the revival finally and lemme just say that the revival is dead to me with what they did to Diane. Anything I write about her is gonna be canon divergent from this ridiculous "bad Cooper assaults Diane and makes a tulpa to take her place" plot line because she deserves better  
> as always, comments (either positive or constructive) are always welcome and much appreciated!

Albert had always known there was something just the tiniest bit _off_ about Windom Earle. There had been something disconcerting in him, something not quite right, and Albert had never found it possible to open his heart to the man because of it. A good thing, in the end, because it made it that much easier to demand that Earle be locked up in a nuthouse for the rest of his days. Yet even that had been difficult, because when Albert had found Cooper covered in blood next to Caroline's cold and unmoving body, he had wanted her husband dead. He wasn't, of course, because Albert's rage tended to burn short and fast before logic cooled it off, and so Windom Earle was spirited away and Albert was now entering Cooper's hospital room, determined to make sure that he was at least physically well, or on the way to being such. There was no telling as to what his emotional state would be. 

 Cooper looked very small and very wan in his hospital bed, nowhere near himself, devoid of the essence of Dale Cooper. There was no step to have a spring in, no thumb tiled upwards with a crooked grin, not a speck of gel on his dark head, no twinkle in eyes hidden by veined lids. He was alive, Albert could see he was alive in the shallow rise and fall of his chest, in the steady jumping of his throat, but only just. It would take a while for Cooper, the Cooper he knew, to return; he knew that from the second he saw the blood slick on the floor. Aside from him and the sleeping FBI agent, there was only one other person in the room, a dark haired woman perched on those patently ass numbing chairs, too lost in her thoughts to make a move at Albert's entrance. 

"How long's he been like this?" There was no need for introductions or pleasantries, either on his part or Diane's, not when their friend was lying, ashen and still, in a hospital bed because Albert had failed to protect him.

"A few hours now." Her voice was soft and slightly scratchy, answering the unspoken question in Albert's mind of whether or not she'd done anything other than sit by Cooper's bedside since she'd been allowed in. "They said it's not a coma, that he just...he just needs to rest. He lost a lot of blood." There was an ever so slight quaver in her voice, and his hand hovered by her shoulder for a moment, before pulling back. Too familiar, and most likely unwelcome in this particularly stressful time. 

"He did." He couldn't get the sight of it out of his mind, of the great pools of red by both Cooper and Caroline, slippery and sticky, emitting such a thick coppery smell that Albert had thought he would choke on it. The memory still made him gag, and the slight noise that came with it was enough to make Diane turn her sloe eyes away from Cooper and train themselves on Albert's face. He averted her gaze. He never liked when Diane looked at him with those eyes, those dark and unreadable eyes that always felt like they were piercing through the soul and dissecting every secret on moment at a time. He didn't know how Cooper could stand it, spending so much time being scrutinized by those eyes. Being so eager to be scrutinized by those eyes. 

"What happened?" She asked, her voice so bewildered that it came across more as a little girl asking a father for guidance rather than a woman demanding answers from a man only a few years her senior. 

"Windom Earle happened." The vehement bitterness in his tone did not go unnoticed by Diane, whose eyes widened and lips parted as if she was about to unleash a tirade of questions on him. Albert hoped she didn't, because he wouldn't be able to give her answers. He wouldn't be able to answer anything coherently, not with Cooper lying on the bed, having escaped death only by the miracles of both God and modern medicine. Ask him about Windom Earle, and all he would be able to manage would be a string of vitriol, a stream of hatred. 

"Windom Earle did this," Diane repeated, gaze sliding back to Cooper's sleeping form. It wasn't a question, but more as if she was repeating it to make sure she got the facts right, that she wasn't missing anything. Albert didn't fault her for it; if someone had come to him twenty four hours ago and told him that Earle would viciously attack not only his young protégé but also his wife, Albert would have laughed. "Agent Cooper loved him like a father...and he did this to him." 

"To Caroline too." This time Diane's turn to his direction was sharp and sudden, her dark eyes too knowing for Albert to keep on believing that Cooper's love for Caroline had been as closely guarded a secret as he would like to believe. "She didn't make it." There was a moan, low in Diane's throat, and her head dropped to her hands, fingers scrubbing over her eyes as she braced her elbows on her knees. This time, Albert did place a touch on her shoulders, and didn't flinch away when Diane covered his hand with hers, taking the moment to close his eyes and make sure that his composure remained as air tight as he always wanted it to be.

"You'll have to tell me what happened." 

"Not now." More plaintive than authoritative, not him telling her that he wouldn't, but him begging her not to make him. He needed to wait, needed to wait until he didn't choke on the words and stopped seeing the grisly scene whenever he shut his eyes. Diane was looking at him again, soft and kind, and tipped her head down in a gentle acquiesce. 

"Of course. Whenever you're ready." Albert's nod was tight and curt, eyes fixed on Cooper. He would need to be told; he had already been too far gone by the time they'd found him, and it was entirely possible that he wasn't aware that there had been a casualty. That particular divulgence of information would be left to Diane; she would be able to do it better than him, gentler. She would be able to soften the blow of the words, better than Albert ever could. "I can't believe this is happening." A bark of laughter startled them both, and startled Albert all the more when he realized it came from his own mouth. 

"You and me both." 

Cooper stirred suddenly, a faint whimper coming to his lips, and in an instant Albert had left Diane's side and darted for the door. She, meanwhile, had risen immediately, taking her boss's hand in hers, making gentle quieting noises as if soothing a frightened animal. Cooper relaxed, and carried on his rest, and Albert's heartbeat returned to a normal rhythm. She, however, refused to let go of his hand for a few more seconds, thumb stroking absently along his knuckles in a gentle touch that would have made Albert ache had he been the recipient. 

"Are you going to stay here until he wakes up?" He asked once she pulled away, returning to her perch on the chair. He didn't think there could be an answer to that, not when Cooper could be sleeping for the next several hours and Diane doubtlessly had, if not a job to do, then at the very least a life to get on with. 

"Yes." She said it with such stunning and devastating simplicity, as if there was no other place on Earth she would rather be. For some reason, that scared him, on behalf of them both. For Cooper, who opened his heart so easily and let it bleed so fiercely, and for Diane too, who had clearly and brazenly hopped over the same line between superior and friend that Cooper always hopped. He found himself scared for them both, for caring so much, so soon after a madman had slashed the evidence of caring so much to ribbons. And his fear made him want to be cruel. 

"And so the rumors are true."

"And so the rumors are _false_." There was a fierce denial in her voice, more scalding than his cynicism, revealing the steel that Diane so expertly hid under her doe eyes. Albert liked to generally consider himself above workplace gossip, especially when that gossip involved two people he knew potentially abusing the system of power the FBI so relied on to function smoothly. But his nerves were frayed and he needed an outlet for the turmoil of emotions inside him. "I know what people say Albert. I'm not an idiot. But despite what people like to say, there's nothing..." Her voice broke off, and for a moment she looked how Albert felt. Defeated, like life had finally broken them over its knee, snapped them in two. "There's nothing going on between me and Dale Cooper." Inexplicably, there was a lump in his throat, and Albert took that as a sign from the universe that his departure was imminent.

"Be careful Diane," he warned, voice low and hoarse. "I don't want a pattern to develop." Caroline Earle's corpse, Windom Earle's madness, they were both unspoken ghosts beyond his words, silently acknowledged by the pair of them, even if neither of them would want to admit it. 

"Would it be terrible of me to say that I don't care?" His hand on the handle of the door, Albert didn't turn when she began to speak again. But in the back of his mind, he saw Cooper's smile, felt the solidity of Cooper's embrace, the warmth that accompanied any measure of time spent with him. He knew that however easy it was for Cooper to give away his heart, to love unconditionally, it was indefinitely more easy to give him that back in return. To take whatever affection he so effortlessly handed out and return it thousandfold. No wonder Diane didn't care of the consequences. No wonder he didn't either. 

"No. It wouldn't."


End file.
